


The Morning After the Night Before

by LilyK



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 04:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15040832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: What happens the next morning after.





	The Morning After the Night Before

Hutch was a captive man.

And it felt really, really good. 

He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Next to him, Starsky slept the sleep of the innocent. Well, not so innocent, was he? Hutch was grinning like a fool. He wasn't innocent either but, man, he was completely and utterly happy. 

Hutch felt fantastic. For another thirty seconds that is, until reason intruded. What if Starsky didn't want what he wanted? What if Starsky was happy with a “wham, bam” and after smacking Hutch's ass, sauntered off for a double bean burrito and a blow job from Candy or Marilyn or, or... Whomever! 

Starsky wiggled in his sleep. His arm possessively circled Hutch's chest. If Hutch closed his eyes, he could feel the hairs on Starsky's arm tickling his nipples. His cock twitched at the idea of Starsky tickling his nipples. 

“Down, boy,” he muttered, returning to his musings. “You have things to consider other than that!” 

Starsky's right leg was tossed over his. Starsky wasn't a light-weight and his thigh weighed heavily on Hutch's. Hutch didn't care. He didn't care that they were both sweating wherever their skin touched: along flanks and legs and oh, yeah, his shoulder. Starsky's nose was buried in his neck and each breath was warm against his skin. He was sweating there as well. Starsky was probably drooling on him, too. 

Hutch did not care. Having Starsky plastered against him, smelling of sweat and sex, was peachy with him. He grinned again. 

“Stop it.” 

The sleepy voice speaking to him made him start. Hutch looked down, meeting his partner's (his lover's!) piercing gaze. Starsky could drill holes with those eyeballs. They were blue, sure, but the intensity that he could convey when he stared or glared was daunting. 

“Stop what?” Hutch asked innocently. 

“Thinkin' so much. You woke me up with all that noise.” 

Hutch laughed aloud. “You are a mush brain.” He ran his free hand across Starsky's curls. Needed a shampoo. Maybe they'd--

“There ya go again,” Starsky said, lifting himself up onto his elbows, but not before he jammed one into Hutch's side. Hutch let out a grunt. “Sorry.” 

Hutch rubbed the sore spot. “I'm thinking good stuff!” 

“Promise?” Starsky kept his attention fully on Hutch. 

As he studied Hutch's face, Hutch realized he must be searching for any sort of negative reaction. Anything... a twitchy eyebrow or nervous swallowing or fidgeting. He would not be getting any satisfaction from Hutch in that regard. Hutch knew that as well as he knew he loved his man with all his heart and soul. And body, too, now. 

“You want breakfast?” Hutch offered. 

Starsky waited for a beat before he visibly relaxed. “Yeah. You cooking?” 

“If you're eating, I'm cooking. I have a fresh box of Bisquick waiting to be turned into pancakes.” Hutch waggled his eyebrows. 

“Really?” Starsky launched himself off the bed. “I could murder a stack a' pancakes. Got any syrup?” 

“Your favorite,” Hutch said, sliding off the bed. He almost--almost--covered his cock with his hand but forced himself to be casual. He pulled his robe from a hook on the door and began to put it on... casually, of course. 

Starsky was around the bed in a flash. He had one arm around Hutch's waist and another cupping his balls before Hutch could move. 

“You're mine now, Hutchinson.” Starsky pulled Hutch close, mashing their mouths together. He drove his tongue between Hutch's lips, kissing him fiercely. All the while, he rolled Hutch's balls in his hand. Hutch's knees went weak. His cock hardened. His head swam. He clutched at Starsky's upper arms. 

Starsky spun Hutch around and pushed him back onto the bed. “Now get to cooking.” 

“Jesus, you're pushy.” 

Starsky laughed, hands on hips, body on display. The man was utterly gorgeous! 

“I can be pushier if you want.” 

“Oh, crap,” Hutch whispered. He looked up at Starsky, the man he loved. “When?” 

Starsky laughed deeply. “After breakfast? We don't gotta report in for another twelve hours.” 

“Sounds good to me... Lieutenant Starsky.” 

“Lieutenant. I like that sound of that!” Starsky puffed out his chest. “We did it, partner.” 

Hutch smiled, reaching out. Starsky didn't hesitate. He slid his fingers through Hutch's. “More money, too.” 

Starsky grinned. “Love ya, Hutch.” 

“Me, too,” Hutch said, afraid he'd cry like a baby if he said more. Later on, he'd say more. 

\-----------------------------------------

“Pancakes were great, Hutch. Thanks.” Starsky belched, grinned, and finished his coffee. 

“You're welcome. You get to do the dishes.” 

“Seems only fair.” Starsky pushed away from the table. 

Hutch watched him as he cleared the dirty dishes and began to run hot water. His hair was freshly washed and curled wildly. He had on one of Hutch's t-shirts and far too long jogging pants. No skivvies, which was good because Hutch could watch the play of Starsky's firm buttocks under the thin jersey. Starsky was a beautiful man. He'd never get tired of thinking it (and maybe saying it one of these days?). 

“So...” Hutch said. 

“So?” Starsky asked over his shoulder, elbows deep in suds. 

“Ground rules?” 

“Really? We're having rules?” 

Hutch knew he was blushing. “Listen, Starsk. This, us, is important to me.” 

“Hey, you don't think it's important to me, too?” 

“That's not what I mean.” 

“So what do you want?” Starsky asked, his tone wary. “Because I ain't playing second fiddle. You dig, as Huggy would say?” 

“What?” Hutch stared at his partner. “You want....” He was terrified. He was afraid to put words into Starsky's mouth yet he didn't want to hear anything that didn't fit with his own desires, his own passions. There were things he needed to tell Starsky. Words that he longed to say himself. 

“Hutch.” Starsky turned, dripping water onto the linoleum. “Just tell me what ya want. I won't bite. Well, unless you ask nice.” He gave Hutch a lecherous grin.

“Stop it!” Hutch rose so quickly he toppled the chair over. “Just stop! I can't do this!” He headed for the bedroom, Starsky on his heels. 

“Hey!” Starsky grabbed his arm and spun him around. “How long have we known each other? You can't talk to me now because we made love? What gives?” 

Hutch stared into Starsky's angry eyes. “What?” 

“Huh?” 

“We made love?” Hutch stammered. His heart was pounding. Maybe, just maybe it wasn't a one night stand or that disgusting term he'd heard before: fuck buddies. 

Starsky was quiet for a moment before he asked, “What do you call what we did?” 

Hutch moved closer to Starsky, wrapped his hands around Starsky's biceps. “I call it making love. I'm glad you do, too.” 

“Okay.” Starsky tipped his head. “And I repeat, what gives? Are we setting those rules? Maybe a rule like... exclusive.”

Hutch stared, dumbfounded. All of his dreams had come true with one word and he couldn't think of a thing to say.

“You don't want that?” Starsky asked warily. “Just you and me.”

“No! Yes! I want it!” Hutch shouted. 

“Hey, I'm right here. No need to yell.” Starsky grinned. 

Starsky had such a beautiful smile. 

“I love you,” Hutch said. 

“I love you, too.” 

“No, I mean I really love you.” Hutch rubbed his palms up and down Starsky's upper arms. 

“I know what ya mean. I mean it, too.” Starsky tweaked Hutch's nose. 

“Okay.” 

“See? Now that wasn't so hard, was it?” 

“Yes. Incredibly hard.” Hutch grinned, unable to keep the happiness from spilling out. 

“I do have one rule though.” 

“Okay,” Hutch said slowly. 

Starsky waved his finger in Hutch's face. “When I got my cock buried in that fine ass of yours and you're coming all over the sheets, if you ever, ever call out 'Dave!' I'm leaving you.” 

Hutch stared at Starsky for a good ten seconds before he burst out laughing. “When have I ever called you Dave?” 

Starsky shrugged. “And I ain't calling you Ken in our most intimate moments either. You can call me honey or baby or sweetie pie. Just not Dave. It's too creepy.” 

Hutch grabbed Starsky and lifted him from the ground. He kissed him once and dropped him onto his feet. “Got it.” 

Starsky nodded. “Then that's settled.” He went back to finish the dishes. 

“I'm going out for a run.” 

“Okay. When you come back, we'll shower together.” 

“We already showered.” 

Starsky looked over his shoulder. “And so...?” He waggled an eyebrow suggestively. 

Hutch smiled at his lover. “Ten hours and thirty minutes.” 

“Right.” Starsky waved a soapy hand at him. 

Hutch opened the door and right before he closed it, he called out, “Later, Dave!” 

He pulled the door shut and smiled when the sound of a wet dish cloth smacked into it. Ah, yes. life with Starsky was going to be terrific. 

End


End file.
